


Sometimes in Dreams of Impact

by AsymmetricalButterfly



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:53:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsymmetricalButterfly/pseuds/AsymmetricalButterfly
Summary: A retired Nick Kyrgios. A Stefanos Tsitsipas in the twilight years of his career. A what could have been.
Relationships: Nick Kyrgios/Stefanos Tsitsipas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Sometimes in Dreams of Impact

**Author's Note:**

> While I wrote this one as a standalone, the 'The Feeling's Bittersweet' provided my creative background/alternate universe for this one. It's not necessary reading at all but if you read this and want to know the 'before' then I'll direct you to the first eight chapters of that. This is the alternate conclusion that the crossroads in chapter eight could have and mostly probably would have taken.

Just a glimpse of him down the otherwise empty corridor and he was back there, twenty-one years old again. The suit...suited him, emphasising the broadness of his shoulders, the length of his legs, the expanse of him as a person. It was a different version of him to the one that he’d known. That version was shorts and basketball jerseys, both so effortless and so completely aware. As he drew closer, he noticed the other differences too. The lines that once crinkled around his eyes were now engraved and the hair was thinner, shorter to compensate. He’d been a constant, there at the periphery of Stef’s career, but this was the first time that he’d allowed himself to take him in in his entirety in over ten years. It helped that he was completely oblivious, lost in a world of scrolling through his phone and rolling slick, white gum around his tongue, allowing Stef to look at him with an eagerness that he’d poured into not looking at him since those days.

With each step towards him, the persistent, increasing rhythm of his heartbeat echoed through his entire body, wanting him to look up and meet his eye and needing him not to. The thought of just striding past, his head held at that determined tilt as he continued through the complex into the night, gave him a rush of defiant satisfaction. That feeling was quickly quashed by the rush of shame at his pettiness and the arrogance to assume that he still mattered enough for the gesture to leave a mark on him. Somehow he was angry that the remnants of those feelings were still close enough to touch him, to be carried through his life despite the nothingness that was left in their wake.

As the space between them closed, the sound of Stef’s footsteps drew his attention and he looked up, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes before they settled into his smile and the phone was slid into his pocket, a gesture of giving Stef his whole attention. It was a gesture that gave his heart a beat of respite, soaring ever so slightly as it did.

‘Stefanos Tsitsipas,’ He let out in a drawl.

‘Nick Kyrgios,’ He replied, stopping just short of the man.

If Nick was surprised that he’d acknowledged him at all, he didn’t show it as he let his eyes roam over Stef’s body, full of that teasing, taunting smile, before slowly bringing them up to meet Stef’s own eyes again. In that second, Stef could have sworn he saw a flicker of triumph in them that he’d drawn Stef into following those eyes of their tour of his body.

‘You played well tonight,’ Nick commented.

‘I have to make the most of it, you never know how many more times you will be playing on these stages.’

Even after all these years, he recognised the intent in those eyes and saw him catch himself just before his eyes could move to a roll of disdain that Stef could possibly want to stand there and talk about his career despite the fact that he was the one that introduced this topic in the first place. Perhaps it was the only topic that either of them felt safe and able to hold a loose conversation around in a secluded corridor as the hour approached midnight. He eyed the exit at the far end of the corridor before turning back to look Nick in the eye.

‘I heard your commentating,’ Stef offered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the commentary box.

‘Yeah? What did you think?’

‘That you say ‘like’ too much,’ Stef said simply.

The self-assured smile widened into a full grin now and Stef found his eyes dropping to his mouth, the fullness of those lips and the way he held the tip of his tongue beneath his teeth. Swallowing, he looked down the hallway to the exit once more, all while knowing that he was rooted here for as long as this moment could last.

‘Brutal, man. Brutal. It’s harder than you think, although you were always the one for words,’ Nick teased before adding, ‘You thought about doing it when you retire? I could give you some tips.’

Ignoring the suggestive lilt of the latter comment, Stef shook his head and smiled, ‘I prefer to focus on the here and now.’

‘Well you should definitely think about it. I’m pretty sure every TV company would be lining up for the services of the multi-slam champ, Greek God Stefanos Tsitsipas.’

Stef shook his head ever so slightly, as much to impress on Nick that he wasn’t letting him get under his skin. To get under his skin, he’d have to have left in the first place and that was territory that Stef simply couldn’t allow himself to linger on. It was territory that had been walled off and kept at a distance beneath the surface for ten years where even the softer interludes of pondering ‘what if?’ were quickly quashed and his mind directed to more worthy matters.

‘Just a thought,’ Nick added.

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

They looked at each once more, eyes level now since Nick no longer had the image to maintain of hunching around the court, and Stef saw the reflection of disappointment and acceptance that this moment had passed, as fleeting as it had been. He smiled softly and pulled his bag more firmly on his shoulder, allowing the gesture to say the words for them as he finally took that step towards the exit.

‘Hey, do you wanna get some dinner tomorrow night?’

The words tumbled out and Stef looked at Nick sharply, searching for some agenda or meaning beyond the simplicity or the question. To simply throw out the possibility of them sitting down to dinner after all this time felt almost impossible. What could they possibly talk about? So much had happened in those intervening years but everything of substance came before them and the before was something that neither of them had ever approached or acknowledged since. Those eyes though. Those eyes that he’d known every fleck of colour of and every expression of were full of sincerity and perhaps ever a little fear of rejection and were steering him back into the abyss. He was prepared this time though where the twenty-one year old had been naive.

‘I haven’t organised my practice yet,’ He caught the hint of disappointment and the hardness flash across Nick’s eyes to cover for it, ‘but I could let you know tomorrow?’

It was a way out, deceptively blatant because he already knew that practice would be organised to ensure that he would be free for any dinner plans that transpired. No, his way out was impressing on Nick that he wanted one so that he was insulated if Nick found himself with different plans and left Stef with a half-formed apology, if he ever bothered with one at all.

‘I’m on the afternoon session so I’m all yours any time after that. If you’re not too busy of course,’ Nick said, his tone reflecting a complete assuredness that Stef couldn’t possibly be too busy for him.

‘Sure, I’ll let you know.’

With a curt nod of the head, he turned and headed towards the exit before he could become drawn even further into whatever Nick’s agenda was and fully aware that he’d already begun the descent by making himself available for dinner just like all those years ago.

* * *

His hands trembled slightly as he walked down the road towards the restaurant, double checking the address on his phone and he wondered how he could allow himself to agree to this date of sorts, knowing the dangers that lie in the wake of being in Nick’s orbit. The truth was so plainly obvious that the question was barely dwelled upon before he was lamenting the answer. He had to know if any of it touched Nick, even just skimming the sides for the briefest of moments. There were times where he had to check himself that any of it was real at all, so alien and distant it felt now. At the time though? He’d never felt anything more real in his life. It was coming to know the feel of somebody’s body beneath your lips, of offering up your insecurities as a gift because you trusted the person to nurture them, it was being torn in all the directions of love, hate and everything in between.

And then it was all over. Just a tiny drop in the ocean of his life where the ripples still lingered. He had picked himself up, carried on and as his career had gone from strength-to-strength nobody had ever known that their moment of a matter of months had existed. They travelled to the same tournaments, meeting on opposite sides of the court a handful of times but their lives always remained steadily detached from one another. Admittedly, with somebody like Nick it was impossible to remain completely oblivious to the dramas of his life. Curiosity always lingered but he resisted the temptation to succumb to it, perhaps made easier by Nick’s life and career offering themselves up across social media even without actively seeking them out.

With each new woman (always a woman), with each fine, with each outlandish statement made purely to catapult him back into the public consciousness Stef felt that pang of regret and disappointment. Not a pang for him or even for them, but for Nick and everything that Stef still believed he could be. When Nick’s retirement came, announced on his Instagram stories as his lack of care for his body caught up with him to a chorus of murmurs at his squandered talent that some had always clung to the hope would be fulfilled right to the bitter end, Stef had felt a finality that he’d never been permitted when their relationship had come to an end. There’d be no more glimpses across a player lounge or platform for Nick to be propelled into his consciousness. Or so he’d thought, as it turned out that there was only so long Nick could sustain being starved of the spotlight before throwing himself back into the sport that he’d spent his career disdaining to work as a commentator for the Australian networks at the slams.

He hadn’t entirely been without hope that this dinner would happen but he was still somewhat surprised by the notification that Nick was now following him and then a message telling Stef that he’d be free all night and to give him a time, any time. So there he was, walking through the restaurant door and catching a glimpse of Nick sitting towards the back of the restaurant where they were shielded from windows, absent-mindedly twiddling the hairs of his beard as he stared off into the distance.

When he reached the table and Nick finally looked up to see him, Nick actually stood up to welcome him, his thighs crashing into the table in his haste and shifting the cutlery across the white linen cloth. It could have been awkward, Nick inadvertently laying open his eagerness like that, but instead they both laughed as they straightened the cutlery and took their seats across from each other. And then the words flowed and it was just like those days when they were learning to understand one another, when they were starting to realise that they could possibly mean more to one another. None of it was anything of any consequence, of course, no word uttered with a hint of suggestion that they would still be agonising over into the early hours of the morning wondering if they should have held the moment longer to understand the true meaning. Instead they talked about tennis, the personalities that they’d seen come and go, their families and recently newfound roles as uncles. It was here where they both lit up as they shared photographs and the cherished milestones of their nieces as if they were their own, both brimming with pride and then happiness at having this chance to see it in the other.

He didn’t know what he’d expected from this evening, as much as he had run the various scenarios through his mind when he was drilling serves down the practice court, eating his lunch, showering and agonising over what to wear. Whatever he had hoped for and planned for, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t rediscovering the pleasure of basking in this intoxicating charisma with just the edge of sexual allure always present. It wasn’t allowing his heart to skip ahead to a beat of a future and then drawing it back in with the full power of his mind because he knew where that led. When the restaurant started to empty around them and the bottle of wine that been exclusively consumed by Nick reached it’s last few dregs, it felt like such an inevitability that their next stop would be together that Nick didn’t even ask Stef to come back to his hotel room; both spoke of it as a matter of formality as they settled the bill.

The walk to the hotel was just a matter of minutes and Stef wondered briefly whether that was why the restaurant had been chosen in the first place, whether Nick had seen this all unfolding just as it had when their eyes had met along that corridor. He wondered whether he had had the same understanding without being able to openly acknowledge it to himself. This was their rhythm, it seemed so inevitable now he took the time to really think about what their spending an evening together meant.

When they reached the room, Stef closed his eyes and slowly inhaled the air. So easily it could have been ten years ago, the suitcase lying half unpacked and the Playstation sitting in a tangle of wires under the television, and they instinctively both moved to the sides of the bed that they had naturally assumed then. As he straightened the sheet on his side to lie on, his hand lingered as he wondered how many bodies had lay in these sheets with this man in the days leading up to this night before Stef pushed past the thought and took his place beside Nick. They turned to face each other, so close that Stef could taste the red wine on his breath.

‘This takes me back,’ Nick murmured seductively.

In response, Stef said nothing and waited. He wanted to hear it all, hear exactly what it took Nick back to and whether their memories of their past aligned. Was it for him a snapshot of something that had been so powerful that it still ached deep within? It was as if Nick sensed this need and his eyes shifted away from Stef’s eyes, narrowing slightly as he looked just past them.

‘I miss your curls,’ Nick confessed.

Nick’s hand reached out to the space that had once been full of Stef’s curls falling around his face and onto his shoulders, twirling through the air with his fingers as he had when absent-mindedly wrapping his fingers through Stef’s curls. While he was in no doubt what them lying her together in this bed meant, he yearned to share with Nick that it was those times when Nick would lose his fingers in Stef’s hair while laying together afterwards, half asleep and sharing whatever came into their minds in drowsy murmurs that were what he remembered when he allowed himself to remember at all.

‘I dream about you sometimes. Always with the curls.’

Nick looked wistfully into the space where the curls had once been and then withdrew his hand, letting his eyes meet Stef’s which had never left Nick’s.

‘You ever dream about me?’ Nick pressed.

‘Sometimes.’

‘What do you dream about me?’ Nick asked, his voice low and thick.

That he was there and then he was not. Always just out of reach. Always intangible. That each time he was within touching distance, he was gone again and Stef woke up a restless frustration that permeated through the rest of his day.

‘Your smile, your face.’

It was the truth. Enough of the truth anyway because Stef knew that Nick didn’t want the truth of looking what his dreams meant in the eye. So he satisfied Nick’s need to sink under the surface of Stef’s skin with the version that reflected a superficial enough longing that could easily be moved past.

‘I would have made you happy, you know.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Stef confessed softly.

‘I never stepped out on you or anything like that.’

‘I know.’

Did he? Those glimpses from the periphery of Nick’s life had been enough to know that Nick had fallen into the easy routine of ‘stepping out’ on every girl who just days, hours, minutes before he had been proclaiming his eternal devotion too. ‘Stepping out’ was what Nick did, living in the moment and allowing himself to be carried along by the wave of his bodily pleasures. Somehow though, he believed him. Maybe because he wanted to, maybe because his memories were tainted by the youthful naivety of falling in love for the first time, but mostly because they’d never lied to each other. Not about the things that mattered and, for all the abrupt callousness of how they had ended, he had mattered to Nick.

‘You couldn’t have made me happy because you didn’t. You had the opportunity and you made the choice not to. That is how I know. Because I have lived it.’

Even Nick couldn’t summon the flippancy or charm to respond to this comment with his typically gentle mocking, instead he simply lay there watching Stef for his next move, adjusting the pillow under his head and allowing a glimpse of his hands. They had always fascinated him, the elegant length of his fingers and pearly sheen of his nails, the scattering of tattoos that reflected what Nick considered to be his identity while Stef looked beneath them. When he let his hand drop back to the space on the sheets between them, it was closer now. So close that just the slightest movement of his own hand would close the gap between them completely.

The silence between them persisted in a way that might have been overwhelming had the familiarity of sharing silence within the confines of a hotel bed not come so naturally in rushing back to him. Somehow he felt safe, just listening to the steady current of Nick’s breath and letting his eyes take in the slight changes to his features since they had last laid this close together, always coming back to his eyes framed by the lushness of his lashes. He wondered if Nick expected anger from him, for him to delve into their shared past that they kept nudging at the sides of but he needn’t have feared it. The anger had faded long ago.

‘What does make you happy?’ Nick asked, his voice scarcely more than a whisper.

‘Family, friends, experiencing the world...small things. Everyday things,’ Stef murmured, ‘What makes you happy?’

‘Things that would probably corrupt your beautiful little mind.’

At this, Stef couldn’t help but sigh at the pattern he’d fallen right back into the middle of. Just as he felt they were getting close to something meaningful, led on by Nick’s momentary softness and openness, it was over and they were back to teasing and deflecting.

‘I take it you don’t approve?’ Nick said, his tone rich with his amusement.

‘It’s not for me to approve.’

‘Come on then, my little Greek philosopher, what do you consider worthy of my happiness then?’

‘Have we not established by now that my considerations have no bearing on your happiness?’

‘Humour me.’

‘All I ever wanted was for you to see the best version of yourself and realise it.’

‘Maybe this is the best version of myself.’

‘No, this is the easiest version of yourself.’

There was no irritation in Nick’s gaze which remained locked on Stef’s eyes, but it occurred to him for the first time that perhaps his refusal to shy away from the truth to simply exist in the moment was just as frustrating to Nick as Nick’s inability to stray too far away from the moment to face up to the truth was to Stef. They were two people sharing a conversation that was somehow different to each of them, both looking to submerge themselves in what they needed from the other but neither ever quite able to make the sacrifices to make that possible then or now.

It seemed that Nick had come to this realisation too and, in place of giving each other what they needed, moved to bring them together in a way that had never failed at bringing them both to mutual understanding and pleasure yet. Even before Nick had lifted his head off the pillow, Stef could feel, through anticipation and memory, Nick’s mouth enveloping his own and the reach of his fingers under his shirt to run his hand around his back. He allowed himself just the sliver of a second to watch Nick’s mouth move towards his, catching the peripheral view of those fingers reaching out to allow their skin to connect.

And then Stef withdrew himself from the bed.

Because, for all the want that burned inside him, he couldn’t allow himself to fall back into something that he still hadn’t learnt how to get over. Smoothing his shirt simply to give his hands something to do, he caught the expression of confusion and rejection in Nick’s face from the corner of his eye but refused to allow himself to turn and look at him because the temptation to fall back into his bed would be too much to resist. Instead, he retrieved his jacket and focused on putting one foot in front of the other to the door.

His hand on the handle of the door, he paused just long enough to hesitate and turned to look back at Nick who watched him with only mild interest. It was a look that Stef could read, recognising Nick’s attempts to shield himself in preparation for a cutting word of rejection while hopeful that Stef wouldn’t be able to go through with turning his back on such an effortless and tempting offer.

‘You should know that this will be my last year on the tour, my last Australian Open.’

It was the first time he’d said the words to anybody, this monumental decision that he’d made at the end of last year and knew that he wouldn’t talk himself out of. He wondered briefly if that, in choosing Nick as the first person he’d told of all people, he was laying down the prospect of a ticking clock working against their time in each other’s worlds, a plea to right the wrongs of the past. No. He knew Nick too well to ever consider that possibility. At most it was a reminder of everything that had ever held Nick back, that there would be no more final chances that they would let pass them by.

Nick let out a slow, deliberate breath and turned to look away from Stef and through the window to the lights of the city.

‘I kinda assumed you’d play for as long as your body let you,’ Nick murmured, an ever-so slight hitch to his words.

‘There are other things I want to do with my body before tennis stops me from enjoying it.’

There was a flicker of a wicked smile catching at one side of Nick’s mouth and Stef could read the thoughts that passed through that smile; the memories of how they’d enjoyed Stef’s body together in the past, how easily it had submitted to his touch. After a moment he turned back to look at Stef, his eyes shining almost imperceptibly, but recovered in all other ways as his face softened into an accepting smile.

‘Well, I have no doubt that you will be just as ridiculously talented at all those other things you want to do with that body,’ Nick said, his voice rising to the naturally mischievous nudge.

‘I hope you find happiness. I truly do.’ Stef replied softly and he did.

It was all he’d ever wanted.

‘You know me, I never do anything that doesn’t have a guarantee of happiness at the end of it.’

‘I do know you.’

Despite the hand on the door, they continued to look at one another, acknowledging everything that was said in those four words. If either of them spoke, it would only be to glide past the moment into their comfort zones. Nick with his inability to lay himself open reverting to suggestion and teasing and Stef attempting to disarm each and every attempt at getting under his skin. Or maybe he just wanted one last moment to be alone in a room with this man and feel himself commanding the whole attention of those eyes.

In the end it was Stef who broke the moment, lowering the handle and willing his body to leave the room and down the corridor away from him, carefully counting each breath in time with each footstep, for the final time.


End file.
